The Legionnaires' Weekend Trip
by Time Tripper
Summary: It's a trip to Metropolis for six Legionnaires.. will it be a fun filled weekend or a trip they'll all live to regret? (This story is pre-Crisis.)


The arrival part of the time jaunt certainly had to be the least favorite for any one person making the trip; when six teen-aged boys crammed into the prototype time cube on a weekend sojourn to 2001, they each learned a hard lesson in the relation of the laws of physics to a major migraine.

"Whoa!" shouted Troy, squinting hard and pressing his palms against his temples, an action simultaneously, and quite comically, mimicked by his compadres. "What the grife just happened?"

"Brainy warned us it was gonna be a rough ride if we all jaunted together, but he conveniently left out the part about the pounding headaches," responded Jo, angrily.

"Fear not, my interplanetary comrades," said Val, a tall and thin fellow with pale skin who, at the ripe age of sixteen, was trained in excess of 2,500 forms of physical and martial arts, "with but a simple tweak of this tiny tendon here," he added as he gripped index finger and thumb intently over Troy's left elbow, "your agony shall cease."

"Dude, you're a lifesaver," respectfully admitted Troy.

After each of his pal's headaches tapered off and the time drive was properly shrunken down to fit into his pocket, Val and the gang began to regroup and plot out the events of their weekend in Metropolis, a thousand years before their own time. Prior to leaving the clubhouse, Brainiac Five briefed each of the guys about the repercussions of damaging the time line. Any event, no matter how insignificant, could alter history as they knew it, so they were warned to steer clear of using their powers or finding any kind of trouble, and to report back to 2978 no later than by Sunday evening around 11:30 p.m. Jo's attention was the first to begin fading during Brainy's lecture, followed closely by Thom's and Dirk's. Luckily, Val, Gim and Troy paid scrupulous observance to the lesson plan. After all, they liked their century and didn't want to be the cause of any change; they just wanted to have some fun.

This was a fine looking group of young fellows gathered here a few years short of a thousand before they would be born. The boy who seemed to be in charge, almost a combination of team leader and chaperone, was Val Armorr. In 2978, Val was known to the universe at large as Karate Kid, an introspective lad with a penchant for few words and surprise hits. Raised and trained by Earth's foremost sensei, Val was a spiritual young man who was respectful and quiet, but fearless. Though he never knew his true heritage, Val's facial features revealed an Asian visage beneath streams of thin black locks, a handsome contrast to cobalt blue eyes.

Troy Stewart was a stocky boy, and the youngest of the crowd. Tall and assured, Troy's skin was a dark, rich mahogany hue. His broad shoulders and protrusive chest revealed the boy's predilection to physical fitness; on off time from the group, he could usually be found in the clubhouse's work out facility. His code name in the future, more a dialectic pseudonym from his native tongue meaning, "shriek of the demon," was Tyroc, and that was a name he wore proudly. His grandfather gave him the name the first time one of his sonic yells demolished a wall in their home, and it just stuck, and he then went on insisting to be called Tyroc. But he knew that when his friends referred to him as Troy, it was because they were just that, his _friends._ He was a loyal young man, a man whose trust must first be earned; these travel companions and the others with whom he surrounded himself in 2978 had indeed earned the honor. His goal on this weekend jaunt was to obtain a tattoo, what granddad would call archaic skin art.

The boy with the white-speckled purple tee shirt and spiked brown hair was Thom Kallor, also known as Star Boy. Though his power was formidable, his demeanor was gentle; he often claimed that he was a lover, not a fighter. He could absorb the mass from any surrounding star, turning it into enormous strength and endurance, as well as projecting it onto a target, making the target extremely heavy. He was known for requesting missions with his lovely girlfriend, Nura, another member of their elite legion, so that they could hold hands in the cruiser on the way to the fight; it helped him focus. But when it actually came time for the fight, Thom was more than capable to dish out an ample case of whoop-ass. Thom had a great smile, a set of star-bright teeth, and dimples in just the right places. His mission here in 2001 was to find an original collectible _Superman_ action figure, one like he had only seen in holo-vids of 23rd century artifacts, with multiple points of articulation.

Thom's pal, the boy with the backward baseball cap and baggy jeans, was Jo Nah. Being the punch-first-and-get-names- later rough and tumble aggressor of their vast membership was quite a reputation to maintain, but he had the spirit of a hero at heart. He spent the better part of his life fighting on the streets of his home world Rimbor, a veritable haven for all sorts of intergalactic sentient rubbish, most of whom had delivered Jo many of his earliest physical memories. Strangely enough, the fellow also called Ultra Boy did have a weak spot, an Achilles' heal, the dark-haired phantom girl named Tinya, his trouble repellent. Jo was a good-hearted young man, but his tumultuous childhood hardened him, and it made him cynical; however, when it came to carefree time with his buddies, Jo was eager to put the past behind him and let loose.

Next to Jo and Thom was Dirk Morgna, a lanky kid with hair the color of a tangerine in noontime sunlight. He had radiant abilities, both super-human and characteristically; this teenager was unabashed in his consistent flirting, from the throngs of female fans who adored him and never held back screaming, to the odd collective of villainesses he'd frequently encounter. Gim and Jo liked to harass him about the time he tried to use his shining charm on Charma, unknowing her innate abilities were soaking up his attraction just long enough for her pal Holdurr to "pants" him, leaving him a blushing Sun Boy in front of the entire away team and a crowd of stunned onlookers.

Rounding out the six was Gim Allon, a boy often teased as being a socialite; he came from wealth and prestige, with both parents high in the political realm. People talked of his stint with the Science Police as being purchased by bureaucratic "donations" rather than actual skill, and to this end Gim invariably maintained a demeanor of solemnity, determined to prove the nay Sayers wrong. In 2978, he became known as Leviathan after an irradiated meteor crashed near his family's vacation home on Mars Colony, granting him the power to alter his height and strength to gigantic proportions.

The six emerged from an alley behind Karl's Café, a place locals referred to as a quaint spot to get a good sandwich for a reasonable price with pleasant service.

"Food, boys!" jeered Gim as he tugged Thom's sleeve and motioned the group toward the café. Gim Allon was a big kid to begin with; at normal height, he stood about 6 foot 3, broad shouldered and striking. Looking at him, it almost was a given that his claim to fame was the ability to increase his size and mass up to thirty times normal. And when one got to know him, they would describe him as having a giant sized heart. But here and now, this young man wanted a turkey club sandwich, smothered in Russian dressing, flanked by onions and tomatoes.

They crammed into a booth that just about fit their sturdy frames, elbows knocking uncomfortably into one another. "I'm getting a chair, dude, I can't eat with you guys all over me!" said Jo as he arose and grabbed a chair from a nearby table. He positioned the chair and sat, when a voice came from across the diner.

"That chair's occupied, pal," yelled the hawkish voice. As one unit, the six guys turned to face the obnoxious owner of the grating voice. Historians would classify the group they saw standing there as "jocks", each wearing a jacket representing their high school's colors and letters, each accompanied by strangely made-up young girls wearing matching sweaters and mini-skirts, carrying fluffy balls that made whooshy noises. At the sight of the jocks, Jo immediately began thinking in tactical terms, trying to determine which guy he would take out first; Val, on the other hand, began deciding what would be the best way to subdue Jo Nah.

Jo rose from his chair, knocking it to the floor in a hasty effort to prove his tough mettle. This seemed to get a rise out of the group of 21st century teenagers, accompanied by sarcastic smiles and squinted eyes.

"Jo, sit down, _now_," cautioned Val Armorr, gently gripping his tenacious friend's shoulder, the tone of his voice indicating that Val was not going to stand for a confrontation with these guys. "Just put the chair back where you found it and sit back down, okay?" Val's voice was calm, but Jo heard the underlying message, shrugged off his ire, and grumbled.

"_FINE_," growled Jo as he lifted the metal chair from the floor and shoved it apathetically back toward the nearby table.

"That's right, wussy-boy, do as your boyfriend tells you," shouted jock #2, a pimple-freckled boy with hair so messy it looked as if someone actually styled it that way.

"Aw, why'd ya hafta go and say that, man?" mumbled Troy, who quickly stood in cadence with Val to poise themselves as the only things holding back trouble with an upper-case _T_.

Nervous giggles, aggregated with the annoying popping of chewing gum, emanated from the cheerleaders as the local boys steadied their pose and braced for the imminent impact, but before a fight could ensue, the proprietor cleared his gruff throat and bellowed, "Enough, gentlemen, enough."

He was a rotund man with a barrel belly and tree trunk sized thighs and his presence was one that was seen, heard, and _felt_. He skewed his eyes accusingly at the shortest of the troublemakers and said, "That's not how we welcome guests to my restaurant, Georgie. I _know _you don't want your father, or for that matter, _the coach_, to hear about any ungracious behavior, am I right?" he asked with an edge of satire.

Georgie, scrawniest of his fellows but perhaps the most troublesome, snarled back at the large man in the grease spotted apron and grumbled, "Right, Karl… the guys and me were just about ready to leave." The group shuffled toward the door, snide remarks being whispered as they left, and as if offering closure to the short experience, skirt-girl #3 cracked a most impressive gum bubble.

"I'd say those morons are very lucky right about now," voiced Jo as he reached over, grabbed his chair back, and sat at the edge of the booth with his buddies.

Karl approached the table with menus in hand and a wide smile revealing a mouth full of coffee and tobacco stained teeth.

"Okay, fellas, here ya go… and don't let those guys ruin your day!" He was a genuinely nice guy, this Karl; he wore his altruism on his sleeve. "I recommend the Krypto-Burgers," he added, "Just the right blend of cheddar, Tabasco, and onions to fill your tummies up!"

The chef succeeded in lifting the air of angst over the booth of future teens. Before they knew it, the six growing boys were enjoying a meal, groaning and chewing like they'd never tasted food before, and plotting out their incident-free itinerary.


End file.
